Truth be Told
by Miss Summerson
Summary: Richard Hornblower, son of the illustrious Admiral Horatio Hornblower, grew up believing Lady Barbara, Horatio's second wife, was his mother. But when he learns the truth and makes a trip to Portsmouth to find out about his true heritage, there he discovers adventure, danger, and a friend in the feisty Aubrey Kennedy.
1. Chapter 1

Most everyone said that Richard Hornblower took after his father. There certainly was no resemblance to his mother, Lady Barbara, and the blame had to be put somewhere. However, each look in the mirror reminded the young son of the great maritime hero, Admiral Horatio Hornblower, how false that was.

Richard did have his father's dark hair, though the elder's was rapidly lightening to silver. They had the same deep brown eyes, large and keen, but that was where the similarities ended. Richard was trim, because he maintained frequent exercise, but found during his years at Eaton that he could easily tend the other way. He matched Lady Barbara in height only just, but had to look up to his father. And while he did his best to imitate his father's stoic suppression of emotional displays, Richard's face betrayed nearly every thought with either a grin or a flush of crimson. It would take any opportunity to color; embarrassment, anger, exertion. This was a great annoyance to him, for there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

This morning found the reflection even less pleasing. Richard had just finished shaving, and, setting down the razor, he ran a hand over his jaw line. He glared at the face in the mirror, and it glared back with equal ferocity. There were dark patches under his blood shot eyes and his cheeks looked pale and hollow, quite unlike usual. Mother had said another day of this and she would call for a doctor, but Richard did not want to be poked and prodded by some condescending old man. He wanted rest, not these past sleepless nights tossing and turning amongst sweat soaked blankets, and he knew that would help him most. He also wanted peace and quiet, to return to Smallbridge and get out of this wretched, stinking city of London.

Richard turned away from the mirror with a groan and flopped back onto his bed. He ought to finish dressing and make an appearance at breakfast so Mother would stop her fussing. A glance toward the wardrobe instigated an irritating question. Should he ring for his valet? He was perfectly capable of dressing himself, but for once he didn't want to bother figuring out what the proper attire was for the day, as he would much prefer staying in his nightshirt and robe if at all possible. But again, Mother would surely have something to say about that. After the great effort of rousing himself and pulling the bell rope, it was not his valet who entered, but Brown, his father's steward (is that right?).

"How may I be of service, Master Richard?" Brown asked. His sea weathered face and hearty build set him apart from the rest of the household servants, but he acted the part quiet nicely.

"What the deuce are you doing here, Brown?" Richard said, brows furrowing. "Something the matter with Hentley?"

"He was called away by a family matter. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes, pull me something presentable out of the wardrobe, will you? Curse this condition of mine, I can't seem to do anything."

"Are you in need of a doctor-"

"No!" Richard snapped before Brown could finish. "I don't want a doctor, and I don't want Mother thinking I need one either, understand?"

"Aye aye, sir," Brown replied with a grin. For feeling as weak as a kitten, Richard was none the less spirited.

"How are Mother and Father this morning? Hale and hearty as ever, I presume?"

"The admiral and her ladyship are well."

"Curse them…. No, I don't mean that. I don't know what I mean." Richard gave a huff and fell back on the bed. Brown set a clean shirt, trousers, and waistcoat beside him.

"Would you like assistance dressing?" said Brown. Richard could see he was trying to be tactful. For a moment he considered rejecting the offer, but then gave a nod and sat up.

Then, taking advantage of the listening ear for the thought plaguing him, he spoke it aloud.

"Why am I so unlike either of my parents?"

Brown finished helping Richard into his shirt before he answered. "You are more like your father then you think, but I would say even more like your mother."

Richard turned to stare at the man. "Why that's rubbish! How can you see Lady Barbara and say that?"

"I am not speaking of Lady Barbara. I thought you knew…" Brown hesitated.

"What are you saying?" Richard grabbed his trousers from Brown's hands and tugged them on. "Do you imply Lady Barbara is not my mother?"

"I thought your father would have told you. It is not my place to say." Brown began to help with the waistcoat, but Richard snatched that from him too.

"And you will leave it at that?" he could feel his face grow hot with indignation.

"Speak to your father," Brown sighed, and took a step back. A slow smile spread over his face. "Seems your energy has returned, Master Richard."

Richard gave him a glare as his finished buttoning his waistcoat and stormed out of the room. "So it seems, Brown. So it seems."

The thought that Lady Barbara was not the woman who bore him was a startling shock to Richard, yet it made sense, in it's own way. She had always treated him like a son in the most caring manner, yet they were so different.

Richard entered the dining room where his parents sat, breakfast half eaten before them. He gave a curt nod to Lady Barbara, and she opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand.

"Father, I must speak with you." Richard's unusually clipped tone sent concerned expressions to both Lady Barbara and Admiral Hornblower's faces.

"Are you feeling well, dear?" Lady Barbara queried, setting down her teacup.

"No, but that is the least of my concerns at the moment. Father?"

"What is it Richard?" That confounded mask of self-control now hid his father's initial surprise, causing Richard's face to flush again.

He gritted his teeth and continued. "I need to speak with you in private, if it wouldn't be too much trouble." The way he ended it implied there very well might be trouble if his father wasn't willing. However, Admiral Hornblower stood up from his seat with a nod.

"Shall we go to the library?"

"Yes." Richard agreed and led the way out of the room. He could feel Lady Barbara's questioning gaze at his back, but walked without pause down the hall to the cozy privacy of the library.

"Is something the matter, Richard?" His father's question was void of emotion, yet there was something behind those dark eyes of his.

"You tell me, Father, when a very important bit of information is hid from someone, would you say that is wrong?"

"It depends on the reason for which the information is hid." The Admiral strode to the fireplace and stabbed at the embers with the poker.

"Maybe in a time of war, but what about in matters relating to family?" Richard watched his father carefully as the older man considered his reply.

"My answer would be the same."

Richard frowned. "Let me ask you another question then, and pardon my bluntness, but is Lady Barbara my mother?"

The mask slipped for a moment as Admiral Hornblower turned to face his son. Their gazes held for a moment, then the Admiral looked away.

"Lady Barbara loves you very deeply, and has always-"

"You know that is not what I am asking. Is she, or is she not?"

Admiral Hornblower squeezed his eyes closed. "Lady Barbara is not your birth mother, no. I was married before."

Richard sank into a velvet armchair and thought a moment before asking his next question.

"What happened to her?"

The Admiral did not answer at once, but recommenced poking at the fire. Richard had heard tell that his father was not a wealthy man before his marriage to Lady Barbara, which had boosted both fortune and position, but it was a time in his life he talked little about.

"I am afraid to say she died shortly after you were born. I was at sea at the time, but Barbara took you in-"

"You were acquainted with Lady Barbara while still married to my mother?" Richard's eyes narrowed.

Admiral Hornblower gave a sigh and took the chair opposite Richard. Leaning forward, hands resting on his knees, he began. "Her name was Maria," he said the name tenderly, yet with a hint of bitterness. "I rented a room from her mother, Mrs. Mason, in Portsmouth after my promotion to acting commander. However, I was demobilized directly after that and received no wages. Despite my penniless state, Maria cared for me more then anyone ever had. I had felt so alone during that period of my life; I honestly did not know what to do about her. There was no place for a wife and family in my life, yet how could I have rejected the love she so generously offered. If I would return to active duty, God knows if I would come back alive, but the thought that there would be someone to feel concern, or rejoice at my safe return was a pleasure I had never experienced. We were wed, against my better judgment, and the very day of the wedding I was called back to duty. We had one night together, and then I was off…"

Richard had never seen such emotion in his father's face, and he waited with rapt attention for him to continue.

The Admiral leaned back, straightening his shoulders. "Maria had none of Barbara's beauty. She was short, plain faced, and red-cheeked. She worried constantly over me while I was away, and I was with her so little. I cherished my time with her, yet my place was at sea. There were two children before you- a boy, Horatio, and a girl, Maria. The names were of her choosing, not mine. I had much too short a time with them; they were taken by smallpox while little Maria was yet a babe in arms. I still remember Maria's face when I returned home that night." A tear trailed down the weathered cheek, but his father quickly composed himself.

Richard had an elder brother and sister? He imagined a moment what it would have been like of they had lived. He had grown up an only child, and the thought of siblings seemed so foreign.

"Lady Barbara and I did meet while I was still married to Maria, however, that tale is for another day. How I regret the hours of thought I spent comparing the two, Barbara always seeming to win out in the end. Yet I did love Maria, more deeply then I ever could have imaged that day standing with her at the alter. And the sorrow I felt when I learned of her death-"

"Why were you not with her?" Richard stopped his father with the interjection.

"That is the life of a man in navy, Richard. I went when I was bid and stayed until my duty complete. I had no choice in the matter. Thankfully Barbara had made the acquaintance of Maria before that, and she took you in and appointed herself as your mother from that point on."

Admiral Hornblower, who from that point had been staring at the wall to the left of Richard, now met the eyes of his son.

"You are all I have left of her, yet that is a very difficult part of my past to remember. I never told you, because I did not think it was necessary, but now I see I was wrong. Will you forgive me?"

The thoughts swirling in Richard's head made him feel rather faint. That could also be caused by his lack of anything to eat or drink this morning, added to his blasted ill health. It all felt like rather too much, and he still felt a simmer of anger that his father told him nothing of this before. However, looking at his father, seeing the most earnestness and sincerity he had ever encountered in the man, made him swallow his own feelings.

"I do forgive you."

Relief washed over the Admiral's face. "Is there anything else you want to ask? I know this must come as quite a surprise."

"At the moment, no. I think I would like some time alone to think." Richard said slowly.

"Of course." The Admiral got to his feet and rapidly exited the room. Before his son could think of any more questions to ask, Richard mused. But he was glad to be alone, and as he sat staring into the dying flames in the hearth, an idea sprang to life.


	2. Chapter 2

Richard clutched at his top hat as he sprang out of the way of a sailor with a heavy trunk on his shoulder.

"I beg your pardon."

"Git out of 'ere!" the man bellowed in reply.

"Thank you kind sir, I would do just that if I had any idea of where I was going!" Richard muttered to himself, then heard a giggle behind him. He turned to see a tawny haired girl in dark wool cloak, who turned her gaze in embarrassment as he caught her eye.

He was being a fool, and maybe coming to Portsmouth was just a silly goose chase. It had sounded quite logical in his mind, and he had been sure the change of scenery and sea breeze would greatly benefit his health. However, if he stayed around the docks any longer, it was more likely to endanger his health then anything else. He didn't like the stare he was getting from a rough looking gang of blokes leaning against the tavern across the way, but perhaps they were the best people to pose his question to. They appeared to be locals who would know more of the town then sailors coming to and from the busy port. He straightened his coat and crossed over to them.

"Good day, gentlemen." Richard gave each of them a nod, then held his tongue as they burst out laughing.

"The pretty boy thinks we're gents, he does. What do you suppose the likes of 'im is doin' 'round a place like this?" One of them said, pushing away from the wall and stepping towards Richard.

"You could try asking him, and he just might tell you." Richard replied, hoping to high heaven this cheeky response wouldn't get him killed.

The man's eyes narrowed for a moment, then he broke out in a grin. "What is it you're looking for, then? If it's drink, or feminine company-"

"I've heard of a Mrs. Mason who had rooms for rent. Could you tell me where I could find her?"

The man gave a whistle through his missing front tooth. "Now, it's been ages since I've heard that name. Mrs. Mason you say? 'ow about that, mates? She still 'ave that place on Nobbs Street?"

"Last I 'eard, she did," another man with a thick grey beard said.

"How do I get there?" Richard asked.

"Follow this road to St. George's Road, then turn off on Warblington Street. Nobbs' will be your first turn to your left."

"Your help is very much appreciated, thank you all, and good day." Richard said. All the men replied with an amiable "Good day to you" as he hurried off, heart quickening in his chest. Would he really have the chance to meet his grandmother after all this time?

The wind from the east was blowing cold, and Richard pulled his coat closer as he followed the man's directions. It was getting later in the day, and he ought to be heading back to the inn for supper, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving this until morning.

He reached Nobbs street without too much trouble, but then stopped at the head of the road. Here was the street, but which house belonged to Mrs. Mason? The rows of weathered houses had little differences in their appearance, and there were no signs marking which was the one he desired. He looked over his shoulder, imagining how the group of men must be laughing at him, running off so quickly without making clear of the directions.

Lingering in the road, he watched as an elderly women came out from one of the houses to shake out a rug. He would ask her; surely she would know.

"Excuse me, my good woman!" He caught up to her just as she turned to re-enter her house.

"What is it?" she snapped, giving the rug one last shake.

"Could you direct me to a Mrs. Mason's residence?"

"Wouldn't be much of a point to that," she grumbled, "You're standin' right in front of it."

"Why, what good luck!"

She have him a glare that could have soured milk.

"Would Mrs. Mason be at home?"

"You're speakin' with her," said the woman, eyes narrowing.

Richard fumbled to find his next words. "Mrs. M-Mason? You don't say! Why-"

"Get on your way or come inside. I won't stand here in the cold listening to you yammer like seagull."

"If I could come in-"

"Come in then, lad, and tell me what you want! If it's a room, I've none to spare at the time."

Mrs. Mason led the way into the dark foyer, tossing the rug down in front of the door. Richard stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the lack of light. He began to make out a stairway before him, and a door leading off to his left.

"It's not a room I've come for, it is you." Richard paused, observing the ruddy, heavily lined face of Mrs. Mason. Steel grey hair peeped from under her bonnet, and the fabric of her dress stretched tight against her ample bosom and stomach. He tried picturing her younger, to get an idea of what his mother might have looked like. Mrs. Mason was also short, both in stature and in temper.

"What are you starin' at me for, boy? What is it you want with me and who in heaven's name are you?"

"My name is Richard Hornblower."

As soon as he spoke the simple statement, Mrs. Mason's eyes grew to the size of saucers and her hand flew to her heart.

"Saints alive, could it be? You, my dear Maria's own child, grown to be a man?"

Richard couldn't tell if the woman was about to burst into tears or faint dead away, but he put out his arm to steady her. She gripped it like a sailor might cling to a rope during to storm so he wouldn't get washed overboard.

"When that high and mighty lady came and snatched you away after your mother died, I thought that was the last I'd ever see of you. I had lost two grandchildren already, and then a third was torn from my very arms."

"Lady Barbara, I'm sure, was only trying to help." Richard said, trying to calm her.

"Helped her into the grave is what she did. She wanted Horatio for herself; don't think your mother didn't tell me how she saw your father yearnin' after that woman. They only met once, at some highfalutin' party, but your mother could tell. And after all that man had put her through; months on end at sea with hardly a letter."

"England was at war," Richard said, but knowing he could not defend all his father's actions with that excuse.

"Nothing should separate a man from his family," Mrs. Mason said through clenched teeth. "Only death took Mr. Mason from me and Maria. She was hardly old enough to remember him when he passed." She took a deep breath and wiped something away from her face. "But look at you! I knew that was something familiar about you. There's a bit of your father about you, there's no denying that, but it's my Maria I see."

Mrs. Mason convinced Richard to stay for the evening meal, and they talked late into the night. Richard was enthralled with hearing this different perspective on his father's earlier life, though his grandmother played him out to be rather a villain at times. He couldn't blame her though; he knew his father's heart had been much more diligently put into his role in the British navy, then into his role as husband and father.

As the clock chimed midnight, Mrs. Mason bemoaned that she didn't have a room to put him up in for the night. Richard assured her he had a place at a local inn, and should be heading there now before it got any later.

"No, no, no! I won't have my grandson off to a place like that. I'll find somewhere for you to sleep, even if you have to take the davenport. It's too late to be out."

There was no changing her mind, so Richard did in fact have to take the davenport, which was rather narrow and none too padded after years of being sat on. However, he refrained from grousing, pulled the threadbare coverlet tightly around himself, and had a more restful sleep then he had experienced in weeks.

With his things at the inn, and having slept in his clothes, Richard's morning toilette was a rapid one. Mrs. Mason was up with the sun putting together a hearty breakfast, and after he had eaten, Richard bade her farewell with the promise he would visit again.

Soon, he found himself at the docks for the second time, amidst the morning hubbub. He stayed towards the inland side of the street, and while passing a stack of crates, he thought he heard a sob. Amongst so much other noise, he couldn't be sure, but he stopped and listened. There it was again; a soft crying coming from behind the crates.

"Hello?" he said, stepping around to the back of them. "Someone there?"

A frightened pair of blue eyes looked up from a tangle of long light brown hair. It was a girl, sitting with her back to the crates and her knees pulled up to her chin.

"Something the matter?" Richard asked, kneeling down to her height.

"It's none of your…" she stopped mid sentence and frowned at him. "It's you!"

Richard stifled a chuckle. "Yes, I am me, but I don't think we've met. You are?"

"No, what I meant to say is, I saw you yesterday on the docks. You were looking for someone, as was I…"

He saw a tear trail down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. "Did you find who it was you were after?" she said.

"I did, but can I conclude that you did not?" Richard offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. She couldn't have been much over 14, but her willowy frame came close to Richard's own height.

"No. My brother's ship was supposed to come into port yesterday-"

"Ships are often late. I remember my father-"

"No, you don't understand. His ship did come in, shortly after I saw you, but he was not on it." The girl tugged at her cloak to wrap it more securely about her. "He was not there, and the crew would not tell me what had happened to him."

Richard didn't know what to respond with. It was quite possible her brother had died, or been killed, maybe even hung for something he had done. However, suggestions of that sort would be of no comfort to this poor girl.

"Was it a merchant ship?" Richard asked, not knowing what help that information would be, but wanting to say something to fill the silence.

"Yes," she sniffed.

"Well," said Richard, after a moment's pause, "I don't know what help I could be to you, but I offer you my complete assistance. To properly introduce myself, my name is Richard Hornblower. What might your name be?"

"Hornblower?" the girl said, barely above a whisper.

Richard gave a sigh. "Yes, it's an odd name, but-"

"I have heard tell of that name before. My father spoke of it often, with great regard. My name is Aubrey, and my father is Archie Kennedy."

She said the name with such expectancy, with such hope that it would mean something to him, but try as he might, Richard could not recall ever hearing the name before. His father was a well know man, however, so it was most likely safe to assume he had been part of his crew at one point.

"Your father served in the navy?"

"Yes!"

"Under Admiral Hornblower?"

"Admiral?" with that, Aubrey's face fell. "They were midshipmen together, then lieutenants."

"I'm very sorry, I don't remember hearing my father mention that name, but then again, he talks of little from that point in his life."

Aubrey's brows rose at the bitterness in Richard's voice. "I suppose with him an admiral, he has more exciting tales to tell then from his youth, but for my father, it was all he had. From how he spoke of your father, I could tell he thought of him as a close friend."

Richard couldn't recall his father being close with anyone accept for Lady Barbara. He couldn't even think of himself in that manner with the Admiral, especially after this secret about his mother.

"I should very much like to meet a friend of my fathers," he said.

"I would have liked very much to introduce you to him, but I am sorry to say he is no longer living. It was…4 winters ago now."

"Very sorry to hear that."

Richard could see Aubrey was shivering, and he cursed himself for not being a gentleman and finding someplace out of the cold where they could continue their conversation. Then something else dawned upon him.

"Have you been out here all night?"

Aubrey gave a sheepish nod. "I have."

"Well then, we are most certainly getting you someplace warm, something to eat, and I think we both deserve a cup of tea."

Aubrey took Richard's arm with a smile, and they walked down the street to find an inn.


End file.
